Title: Blue Skies From Pale
Author: L'il Gusty
Classification: VA
Keywords: prior CD
Disclaimer: not mine.
Distribution: go for it, just let me know.
Thanks: realb, Karri, Liam
Timeline: five years from "Redux II," if Scully had died
Feedback: don't make me beg; lil_gusty@hotmail.com
Scully -
I read the other day in one of those cancer articles I saved that
someone in remission is considered cured after five years and I
couldn't help but think of how we might be celebrating your
anniversary today.
About three weeks ago I needed an autopsy preformed right away -
new serial killer case the VCS has me on - and I found myself
picking up the phone to call you even though it was only four
thirty in the morning. I still do that, even now. Old habits
die hard, I guess.
Sorry. Bad choice of words.
You're still on my speed dial, both at home and my cell. Yes, I
still get a new cell every year, and yours has always been the
first number I put in the phone book. You're still my speed dial
number one. I wonder how much long distance is to where you are.
I still keep your overnight bag in the trunk of my car - the same
one you asked me to bring to the hospital when you first began
treatment. Your french vanilla coffee creamer is long gone from
my refrigerator, though. It started to curdle, so I had to throw
it away. It took me a long time, though.
I remember the day of your funeral, your mother held my hand and
told me that the pain would get better, that I would never forget
you, but that I would be able to move on. She told me not to
feel guilty for the minutes that I wasn't thinking of you and
that you wouldn't want me dwelling on how you weren't with me
anymore.
"She'd want you to find your truth, Fox."
She squeezed my hand and smiled through the tears streaming down
both her cheeks, then let go and walked over to your brother.
She still calls me on every holiday and our birthdays "to talk."
I know she's checking on me. I know you told her to do that.
She was right, though. It has gotten better. It's gotten easier
to work with other agents, though I still don't have an official
partner. It's gotten easier not to feel guilty when I discover
that I haven't thought of you in days. It's gotten easier not to
stare unnervingly at every woman I see with red hair.
Some days are worse than others. Today is a bad day.
I'm sorry, Scully. I don't think I could ever say that enough,
maybe because I know you'll never hear it. I'm sorry I couldn't
save you. I can save six billion people by averting an extra-
terrestrial colonization, I can save hundreds of unknown
potential victims from serial killers, rapists, kidnappers, but I
couldn't save you. You wouldn't want me think that, either.
You'd tell me there was nothing I could've done, that it was
enough to have me sitting with you every night until you fell
asleep.
Did you know I stayed until the sun rose?
Sometimes I miss you so much I can't breathe. Other times, I
think of you and smile. We had good times and I still think they
outweighed the bad. I just wish we could've had more.
I love you. I can say that now that I know you won't hear it.
Your mother would say you could, though. She told me the
Christmas after you left that you were still with me, watching
over me. That you'd always be. Sometimes I think I can feel you
if I try hard enough. Sometimes I think you can hear me when I
talk to you if I talk loud enough. Sometimes I don't feel so
alone.
Thank you, Scully. Happy birthday.
Mulder
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